"Oh! I hope I can congratulate you this time," I said with great significance.
"The present Marchesa is an angel, mon ami. Dame! I had enough of demons with the Contessa Morone."
"Well, she was punished for her sins."
"Eh! what would you? There is a God, mon ami, and He was wearied of the crimes of that Lucrezia Borgia. But what about the poor girl she tried to poison?"
"Signora Pallanza! Oh, I hear she is in America with her husband. He has made a wonderful success in New York, and Bianca tells me they have two children, a boy and a girl."
"A new Mario and Patti, I suppose. Diavolo! what a pity the old Maestro is not alive to train the voices of his great-grandchildren!"
"Yes, he is dead, poor old man! I heard all about it in Vienna, and Petronella has gone to America to look after her beloved piccola. Well, Angello had a long life, but he was not immortal."
"Dame! perhaps his system is immortal. It ought to be if your singing is an example."
"Ah, flatterer!"
"No; upon my word your Figaro was delightful. It is such a relief to hear a voice without that awful tremolo. But come, are you ready? I want you to sup with me."